


Any Other Name

by charybdis



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Endearments, F/M, Girl!Arthur, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charybdis/pseuds/charybdis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds Eames' pet names demeaning.  Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Other Name

It wasn't a big deal, at first. Arthur assumed it would stop after the first job, after the first time she shot him in the face, after the first time she rigged a bomb. But all those firsts went by, and Eames kept calling her 'darling', smiling that calculated, charming smile, and _not being intimidated._ At all.

He saw her beat a projection to death with her bare hands and when he woke up, he grinned and said, "Thanks for that. It's good to know you've got my back, sweetheart."

_Sweetheart._

She was going to kill him.

***

Arthur was grateful that they didn't need a forger on every job. That meant that she sometimes got to go about her daily business without being harassed. She could leave her hair loose on occasion and not have to dodge stupid puns about 'letting down her hair'. She even wore a nice sundress because it was Tuesday and Eames wasn't there to give her the lewd eyebrow-dance of seduction.

On those jobs, no one called her by any epithet but her actual name. There was one stretch of almost a dozen Eames-less jobs, where she almost forgot what it was like to constantly be on-edge, always sharp and seamlessly perfect.

That was nice.

***

And then there was the Inception job, and Eames came back with a vengeance.

Every time she turned around, he was in her space, teasing her, calling her those _stupid_ names. It was only a matter of time before she snapped at him.

"I don't like it. It's degrading."

"What was that, love?"

Arthur growled, actually _growled_ , she was so angry.

"I. Have. A. Name. It's Arthur. The fact that I am a woman does not give you the right to call me anything you like, Mr. Eames."

Eames was taken aback, just for a second, as though it had never occurred to him that Arthur might not be filled with wholehearted gratitude for his inappropriate name-calling tendencies.

"I don't do it because you're a _woman_."

She threw her hands into the air. "Of course not. You only do it because you're honestly completely impressed by what a wonderful person I am."

Eames was uncharacteristically silent. And then he blushed. Arthur reached for her totem, just as Eames coughed and said, "Well. Yes."

"And I-. Wait. What?"

He made an incoherent gesture, and the blush spread across his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. "I _am_ impressed. By you. All the time."

Arthur can feel her face contort in exasperation and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I mean. You have those suits, right. And your hair is always perfect, even after four hours in a plastic lounger, even though, god knows, it defies all the laws of physics and common sense. You smell like ginger flowers and fresh laundry, and you can assemble a rifle in pitch dark, and you've rigged bombs out of things you got in a kitchen pantry. You're beautiful and I think you've saved my life at least three times.

"How could I _not_ be impressed?"

Arthur gaped. "You like the suits." She only wore them because when she wore anything else Eames would not shut up. She never wore them to impress him. At least, not consciously.

Eames smiled -- and it _was_ a smile, not a smirk -- and said, "Not so much 'like', as 'at least I can focus well enough to keep my job'. Which is more than I can say for your delightfully distracting dresses, Arthur."

He used her name, her actual, honest-to-god name, and somehow that was what sealed it.

She closed the space between them in one stride, and if she hadn't worn heels, she wouldn't even have had to bend her head a fraction to slot her mouth against his for a brief moment. His lips were soft and deliciously plush against hers.

"You could have said something," she muttered, thinking of those endless jobs, trying to be perfect at everything in order to _impress Eames_.

"Arthur, I was afraid you might shoot me," he replied. Honesty sounded strange in his mouth.

Her name, on the other hand, sounded beautiful.  


**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/3434.html?thread=3538026#t3538026) on the Inception kink meme.


End file.
